


Headhunting

by phipiohsum475



Series: More Trouble Than It's Worth [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, M/M, Olympics, Shooting, Sports, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-17
Updated: 2014-10-17
Packaged: 2018-02-21 12:04:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 900
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2467664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phipiohsum475/pseuds/phipiohsum475
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John bitches about omega sporting events, and gets more than he expected in return.</p>
<p>Drabbles on the hidden consequences of the omega verse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Headhunting

Almost all the tables were full, and those that weren’t full weren’t empty either. John searched, and found a table with just a single occupant, a slight man with dark hair. By the looks of his track suit, he represented Ireland. John approached, “Mind if I take a seat?”

The man’s warm smile crinkled his eyes. “For you, of course.”

John sat, setting his meal down in front of him. He eyed the Irishman cautiously; did he know him?

“No, you don’t know me, but I’d like to get to know you,” the man flirted, seemingly reading his mind.

John inhaled deeply, catching the rugged, musky scent of Alpha, layered by a thick film of chlorine. “Swimmer?” he asked the man.

“Of course, Johnny, why do you ask questions you already know the answer to?” the man laughed.

John stuttered, the conversation wasn’t flowing at all like one would typically expect. He closed his eyes, took another breath of the enticing alpha’s scent, and sorted himself. “You swim for Ireland. You look pretty happy, so I’m guessing you’ve medaled in at least one race.” The man smirked in encouragement. “But you’re sitting alone, so you either don’t like many of your teammates, or you don’t race in a medley. You know my name, so either you’ve heard of me, which seems unlikely, or you’ve got a special interest in shooting. Maybe a friend in the events?”

“Not bad, I’m impressed. You’re less boring than the other peons here. Jim Moriarty,” the brunet offered his hand. “And, as for you, you’ve got an impressive record. Why wouldn’t I have heard of you?”

“Because the omega events are barely publicized, and shoved at the end of the games, that’s why. By the end of the nine weeks, no one is watching anymore. After 16 days of male and female alpha events, then another 16 of male and female beta, everyone’s bored. And even then, the events are aired at 3 am. No one fucking cares about omega sports. It’s like the moon landing post-Apollo 11.”

“You might be the most bitter gold winner at the Olympics, sweetheart.”

John bristled, “Just because I’m an omega doesn’t make me your fucking sweetheart.” The swimmer was attractive, and his natural scent sent shivers down his spine, but John refused to accept his chauvinistic advances.

Jim put his hands up in defense, “Sorry Doctor. No need to worry. I’m not here to treat you like a delicate flower. I’ve seen you shoot. I’d be dead before I offered to pay for dinner.” The Irishman’s eyes lit up, as though the very thought of being shot pleased him.

“You’ve seen me shoot?”

“I like to follow the triggers.”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone says. If I tell them I shoot, the first fucking question of their mouth is ‘Do you know Sebastian Moran?’ They know him just because he’s an alpha. They don’t even fucking realize that I’ve out shot him at every event this year.”

“I know Moran. He’s quite the marksman. And that’s how I know you, John Watson. The doctor from England who got not just the gold in six events, but outshined my right hand man in each event. You’re a marvel, Doctor. And not just for the sharp shooting. Almost no one in your personal life knows you’re here. You’ve taken leave from your practice, so you can demonstrate to the world that you could kill in amazing ways, and you’ll go back to your rural practice like you haven’t just won six medals. I must say, Johnny, I am a bit smitten.”

John narrowed his eyes, “You’ve been following me for a while, then.”

“Since you crushed Moran two years ago. Not many of us compare the alphas to the rest, but I noticed, Johnny. You are the best. And I want you.”

Still skeptical, John asked, “For what?”

“Well, truly, I want two things, but they’re both up to you. First, I want to hire you. I have a bit of a side business; I’m a consultant. And I need a steady shot. You’d be perfect.”

John thought on this. He knew implicitly that Jim was propositioning him to be an assassin. He’d stayed out of sight for that exact reason. He knew he’d love the position. He dreamt, aspired to be an assassin, but knew it was morally wrong. He kept his marksmanship hidden for that reason, so the temptation didn’t exist; so that this offer would never be on the table. He stifled his urges down, feeling inappropriately excited.

“And the second thing?”

“Johnny, you seem like you’d be a fantastic fuck. You’re assertive, commanding and deadly. Who wants a fucking delicate waif of an omega? I want you. I want your aggression. I want you to fucking ride me.” Jim stared him in the eyes, daring him to look away, daring him to show the stereotypical omega blush.

John stared back, refusing to acquiesce, as the blood rushed to his cock. The Olympic Village was infamous for its casual sex; there were condoms in every room. This was feasible. The alpha Irishman was hot, appreciated his skill set, and John hadn’t been with an alpha in years.

“My room is two minutes from here,” John maintained eye contact. “But don’t you fucking dare think I’ll roll over and present to you.”

“Oh love, I wouldn’t dream of it.”


End file.
